


Dancing in the Dark

by happydaygirl



Series: Athos/ Aramis collection [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love, M/M, Minutiae of relationships, Police AU, Some hurt/comfort, mostly lighthearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happydaygirl/pseuds/happydaygirl
Summary: A collection of fluffy Athos/Aramis one shots- come here for sickly sweetness as well as the inevitable hurt/comfort. Most characters will feature, but all with an Athos/Aramis twist.
Relationships: Athos/Aramis
Series: Athos/ Aramis collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980433
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	1. Morning Blues

The dulcet tones of the alarm clock filled the bedroom as if they had been sent by the devil himself; Athos opened bleary eyes into the darkness of the room, a frown already knitting his eyebrows together. This can't be right, he thought to himself as he slammed his hand onto the alarm clock, cutting it off instantly. Its too early to get up now, the sun isn't even awake...

Groaning, he rolled over and closed his eyes again, determined not to recognise the start of the day.

Aramis, however, was awake instantly; sitting up he stretched like a cat, eyes adjusting to the weak light of the room as the sun slowly filtered into their bedroom.

'Morning,' he said, voice still scratchy with sleep, as he turned and planted a kiss on the side of Athos' head, chuckling lightly as Athos did no more than shake his head and hide his face in their duvet with an incomprehensible noise of refusal.

Athos was not a morning person; Aramis knew; the amount of times he had had to near-on drag him out of bed to their shifts were uncountable. 'Wakey wakey- we've got to be at the station in an hour!' he said, yawning as he swung his legs out from the warmness of the bed.

'Too early...alarm clock must be wrong...' Athos' voice was muffled by the duvet.

Sighing, Aramis looked instead at his watch. 'Nope, it is definitely 6.30!' he said, smiling as he gently lifted the duvet up to find Athos' determined, scrunched up face as he diligently refused to wake up.

'Thos, get up!' he cajoled, brushing hair from Athos' eyes as Athos shook his head and bodily turned around, showing Aramis his bare back.

'God you're so frustrating!' Aramis chuckled, before he got out of bed, padding over to the curtains as he scratched his chest through his night shirt. 'Look, the birds are singing, the sun is shining!' he called back, before opening the curtains, flooding the room with weak winter sun.

'Ngnnn...too bright...' Athos grumbled, sitting up finally, hugging the duvet to his chest.

'Oh my god, your hair!' Aramis chuckled, pulling off his night shirt and throwing it, balled up, back onto the bed as he crossed back to the bed, shaking his head fondly.

He tousled Athos' bed-headed, messy hair as he straightened out his side of the bed, smiling as his boyfriend gave him a death glare. 'I'm not getting up...' he muttered, lying flat back down, covering his eyes with his arm. 'Give me ten more minutes.'

'Alright... Aramis sing-songed, humming as he crossed the room again, opening their bedroom door with a sigh. 'It's just, I was about to hop in the shower...' he leaned his head against the door, smiling as Athos moved his arm from his face, interest piqued. 'Thought you might like to join me, considering we are quite short of time this morning...' he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. 'Ah well...' he added loudly as he crossed the hallway.

He stood by the bathroom door, listening intently as there was a sudden scurry of activity.

'Three...two...one...' he whispered, counting the numbers off on his hand before-

'Aramis, wait, I'm coming!'

Chuckling fondly, Aramis shook his head ruefully as he tucked two towels under his arm and walked into the bathroom, Athos not far behind...


	2. Touch

Aramis loves to hold Athos’ hand. He has always been the tactile one in their relationship- he was always the one to card his hands through his boyfriend’s thick curls as they snuggled together on the sofa at the end of a long day, watching a film or reading.  
He was the one who would place a warm hand on Athos’ thigh as they drove home from shifts, tired and cold, gently moving his fingers in comforting circles as Athos drove into the night, his mind a jumble from work.

He was the one who would cross the room in the evenings specifically to take hold of Athos’ hand and bring it gently to his lips, kissing the soft skin as the other man rolled his eyes fondly before pushing him away as Aramis went to make them tea.

But most of all, he loved to hold Athos’ hand- whether that be comfortingly entwining their fingers on the pillow between them in bed as they drifted off to sleep at the end of a long day, or grasping his hand lovingly as they walked down the street to get their morning coffee. He adored the feeling of his hand in his partner’s; how they seemed to fit together as if they were always meant to be, however cliche that sounded.

Athos, however, was more reserved. Not that he didn’t mind the hand holding and psychical affection of course; even after all the years he and Aramis has been together, his heart still skipped a beat whenever Aramis turned to him, a laugh on his lips, and embraced him with one arm, his hand cupping the back of his neck, to press a kiss to his temple. It was a comfort, a constant. A promise.

A childhood of elusive, intermittent parenting meant Athos had had to get used to affection being given so freely and lovingly by another person. Each touch and embrace from Aramis had initially made him wary, almost confused. Slowly, but surely, he grew more and more comfortable as Aramis’ touch brought him out from his shell.   
Leaning on his boyfriend as they watched a film he now looked forward to the slow back- scratching, the fingers gently twisting strands of his hair, as Aramis knew he did. Many an evening he would look down to see Athos dozing at his side, Aramis’ hand pressed against his warm cheek as he slept; smiling, he would pull him closer, his fingers brushing his cheek in just the way his boyfriend liked. 

Cherishing each moment, Aramis would then sit back, contended, mind full of happiness as he thought just how lucky he was to have this man by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading- please let me know your thoughts!  
> X


	3. The Things We Do For Love

Porthos pulled his jacket collar closer around his neck as he walked up the pavement towards Athos and Aramis' house, d'Artagnan in tow . A brisk autumn wind sent fallen leaves skittering around their ankles as Porthos bounded up the few steps leading up to the front door of their first floor flat. It was the first Saturday of the month, and that meant football and pizza day; it was a monthly tradition after payday, and something Porthos never missed; he always ensured no one else ever missed it either...

Which was why he and D'artagnan, already trussed up in his shorts and shirt, had been worried when neither of their friends turned up at the park, nor texted or called to say why they were late. It was most unlike them to miss football day, so the two men had made their way over to the house, determined to see what the problem was.

'They could be on their way now?' d'Artagnan said, blowing into his hands as a crisp wind sent his hair flying every which way atop his head. 'We could have missed them on the way here?'

'Nah,' Porthos shook his head and pointing up at the flat, towards a glowing white light behind the living room blinds. 'Lights on.' Turning back to the door, fist out to bang on it and see what was what, he suddenly heard voices come out of a slightly cracked living room window-

' _Harder, harder Aramis!'_

_'I'm doing it as hard as I can! If I do it any harder you'll bleed, and then you'd only moan all day that you're in pain!'_

_'Oh for god's sake- if I was supple enough I'd do it myself, it would be so much easier!'_

_'You're not that supple, I can vouch for that!'_

Porthos stepped backwards, eyes wide, hand still curled into a fist as he contemplated what he was hearing.

'Well?' d'Artagnan pressed from down on the pavement, arms out in a large shrug. 'Are they in?'

Porthos was just about to answer when the voices started up again-

' _No, not there- there! That's it! Come on, I know you can do it harder than that!'_

_'Athos it's already getting red and sore, maybe-'_

_'Harder! Come on!'_

_'My hand is really starting to hurt now!'_

_'How do you think I feel? Keep going!'_

_'You really owe me for this, you really do!'_

Porthos had heard enough. Stepping back from the door, a rueful grin on his face, he walked back down the steps, shaking his head at the youngest member of their team.

'Don't think they're interested in football today, lad,' he said as way of an explanation at the quizzical look thrown his way.

'What? D'Artagnan frowned as he followed Porthos back the way they had come. 'How come?'

'Just trust me...' Porthos chuckled, slapping a hand on his shoulder and guiding him away.

'What are we going to do now?'

'I don't know...pub?' Porthos shrugged, laughing as d'Artagnan shrugged and nodded his approval.

* * *

Aramis sighed as Athos finally got from between his legs in his armchair; he all but kicked his boyfriend to his own chair, where Athos pulled on his shirt once more and sank back, eyes closed in perpetual bliss as the itch that had plagued him for over twenty minutes was finally satiated.

'I am _so_ buying you a back scratcher for Christmas!' Aramis admonished as he too sat back, massaging his fingertips as Athos sighed happily. 'My poor fingers...' he added for effect, chuckling.

'That feels much better...'

'I should bloody well hope so! I almost made you bleed!'

'Never mind, it got rid of it,' Athos replied, opening his eyes to look at the clock. 'Shit, we've forgotten the football!'

'Damn!' Aramis cried, hooking his phone from his jeans, ready to send a text to Porthos to apologise. He frowned as he saw a message already waiting for him from the man in question, sent two minutes ago.

"Don't worry about da football, sounds like u 2 were having plenty of fun yourselves! See you tomoz x"

Athos frowned as Aramis relayed the message to him. 'What does that mean?'

'Don't know...' Aramis replied, shrugging. 'Looks like we have a free afternoon, then!' he grinned, standing up and stretching. 'Now, what shall we do...'

'I think I could probably make it up to you for hurting those poor little fingies of yours?'Athos suggested with a smile, eyebrows raised.

'That sounds like an excellent idea!' Aramis nodded, both men grinning as Aramis took Athos' hands and hauled him to his feet, and to the direction of their bedroom.


	4. House Rabbit

‘I think we should get a rabbit.’

‘Why should we get a rabbit, Aramis?’

‘Because they’re cute, and low maintenance, and we can feed the vegetable peelings to it- it will save the environment, too!’

‘Darling we live in a flat, there’s no way we can keep a rabbit properly.’

‘It can be a house rabbit?Ooh, we can get a giant one! With floppy ears that lopes from room to room, eating from our hands!’

‘I am not cleaning up after a giant house rabbit. It’s not going to happen.’

‘….Spoil sport.’

‘Five year old.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know where this came from, but I had to get it down *shrugs*


	5. Inconvenient Colds

‘Aramis, I’m leaking.’

Athos was the most stoic, calm, level-headed person you could imagine. He was great in a crisis, could get them out of all manners of scrapes while barely raising his voice, and was able to defuse a situation with just a look…

But by god was he the most over-dramatic person Aramis had ever come across when it came to being ill.

Aramis snorted at his partner’s words as he watched Athos lean forwards with a groan and blow his nose wetly into a tissue, his eyes red rimmed as he leant his head back onto Aramis’ lap, which he was currently lying across with his legs dangling off the other edge of the sofa, a slipper barely hanging off one foot. It was 7.30pm on their first day off in months, and night was rapidly falling around them- trust Athos to get ill now, of all times.

‘You’ve got a cold, my love. It happens…’ Aramis said lightly, flicking over a page of his magazine as Athos coughed, eyes squeezed shut. ‘You really should be in bed, sweetheart,’ he added, peering down at him a couple of minutes later.

‘Much comfier here…’ Athos muttered, making Aramis laugh once more. Athos closed his eyes again as Aramis brushed his hair from his eyes, before laying a cool hand on his clammy forehead. ‘Do I feel hot?’ He whispered, voice croaky.

‘Yes, like an oven.’

‘Lovely...’

‘No, not lovely- I’ll get you some more cold and flu tablets in a minute, then you’ll probably feel a bit better.’

Athos nodded, relaxing into the sofa again as Aramis re-arranged the quilt over him before putting his hand back on his forehead, moving his fingers in small comforting circles at his temples and his forehead.

Rain pattered down the windows of their living room, obscuring the evening world outside as everyone rushed home, collars turned up. Classical music tinkled in the room from the radio in the corner, and it was just the two of them, curled up together under a blanket.

Athos sniffled again, closing his eyes against the pulsating headache beating against his his skull.

‘Feels like my head is about to fall off.’

Aramis smiled softly into the pages of his magazine, now looping an arm across Athos’ chest and pulling him closer. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on, then. Why don’t you go to bed? You’ll feel better once you’re lying down properly.’

Athos sighed a little, but nevertheless sat up, the drumbeat inside his head reaching a crescendo as he sat fully upright, clutching the quilt around him.

Aramis stood up, the magazine dropping to the floor as he stood and surveyed his boyfriend, who looked up reproachfully, sniffling thickly.

‘You look gorgeous.’

Athos blew his nose wetly into another tissue, and cleared his throat as he balled it up and stowed it in his jumper sleeve. ‘I feel it, too…’ he replied thickly.

Aramis looked down at him, at his pale yet pinched, pink face, and felt a stab of pity. Shaking his head fondly, he reached down and cupped Athos’ cheek with one hand, both to feel his temperature and to provide some comfort; he knew Athos hated to be ill. He liked to put out the impression he hated to be mollycoddled at times like this, but Aramis knew from the way Athos sank into his hand, eyes closed against the cool skin, that he loved the attention.

‘You hungry?’ He asked as he stepped back and walked into the kitchen.

‘Not really,’ Athos replied, sinking back into the sofa.

Aramis smiled again. Another one of Athos’ tactics he thought Aramis didn’t know about. ‘Alright…’ he replied as he flicked on the kettle, before reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a bowl, into which he put a dollop of honey and some chopped banana; a firm favourite of his when ill . Poking his head round the door he watched as Athos slowly stood and made his way up the corridor to the bedroom, wrapped in the quilt.

‘Won’t be long, sweetheart,’ he called, before turning back and pouring water into two mugs with Earl Grey bags in- Athos’ favourite tea.

‘Here we go…’ he muttered, carrying the tray into the bedroom, only to stop dead in the doorway to see Athos fast asleep, curled up on the bed.

Smiling ruefully, he set the tray down onto the bedside table before gently sitting on the bed. ‘Told you that you needed to be in bed…’ he said quietly, smiling as he settled down into the covers, pulling Athos into a one armed embrace and letting his head fall onto his chest as he snored. Kissing the side of his head the two of them relaxed into bed- Aramis sighed, content, as he hooked his book that he kept on his bedside table into one hand, while resting his own cup of tea on his knee. He smiled, then grimaced, as Athos curled his arm subconsciously around Aramis’ middle, pulling him closer, before he coughed wetly against his shirt.

This was going to be a long night, he was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I hope you are ready for some lovely little fluffy stories concerning these two- I was getting very tired of always writing major whump...damn it I want to write some fluff! Although that's not to say there won't be the odd chapter of hurt/comfort.... ;)
> 
> Prompts are also welcome, although if you would like major angst I will probably do them separately, as this is a fluffy space!
> 
> For those who have read some of my previous Athos/Aramis offerings, you will know I never write the actual slash (I am not very good at it. At all) so you will have to use your imaginations for the rest....
> 
> thanks for reading, please comment!


End file.
